


Hold On To What We've Got

by simeysgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:56:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simeysgirl/pseuds/simeysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn't like anything, or anyone, to come between him and Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On To What We've Got

**Author's Note:**

> This is my offering for [](http://hp-darkfest.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_darkfest**](http://hp-darkfest.livejournal.com/), originally posted [here](http://hp-darkfest.livejournal.com/59266.html). Title is from Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer.
> 
> This is not a happy fic. More info at the end of the fic if you want to know what's included.

One – The Flirt

> We start our story three years, four months and six days after Voldemort was killed. There were two camps. There were those of us who, at first, refused to believe it to be true and those who thought after all that he'd done for us, one little indiscretion—one little slip up—was nothing. In the beginning, no one really panicked. Not one person could have predicted how it would end. I won't spoil it for you; we'll get there eventually.
> 
> There are some who think that this story should actually begin eighteen months earlier with the start of their relationship. I don't agree, and as I'm telling the tale, I say where we start. I will give you a little background in case you need it. Harry met Draco in a pub in London. They fell in love. There. Now on with the story.
> 
> Harry was in a club in London. Soho in Muggle London, to be exact. Draco was with him, as was usually the case. Wherever Harry went, Draco followed; wherever Draco went—well, Draco hardly ever went anywhere on his own. The music was loud, and the smell of cheap alcohol and sweat hung in the air. It was a normal Saturday night out: people were drinking, some people were dancing, and one man had his eye on another.

~

“He's checking you out.” Draco raised his eyebrow at Harry's statement.

“Who is?”

“That little fucker,” Harry said, his voice belying the anger Draco knew to be rising. “The one stood by the bar, undressing _my_ boyfriend's arse as if it was his.”

Draco smiled inwardly; he loved Harry's possessive streak. Draco loved being Harry's. He enjoyed watching the growing look of fear on the faces of men who had tried to chat him up as Harry ripped them (metaphorically) to shreds.

“I'm with you, Harry,” Draco said automatically; he knew that Harry liked reassurance. “Let's give him a show and maybe he'll fuck off.”

Winding his arms around Harry's neck, Draco turned him slightly so Harry's back was to the leering man. Draco raised his head and offered his neck to Harry, and Harry took the bait. As Harry licked and bit and sucked at his throat, Draco raised one perfect eyebrow at the man. Draco loved putting on a show.

Draco pulled Harry's head up and kissed him. Fuck, there really wasn't anything better than kissing Harry. It was the _promise_ of something else that turned Draco on so much.

“Let's get out of here,” Harry said as he broke the kiss.

“Can I come?”

Draco watched Harry's face carefully as Harry turned towards the man—the Muggle—who had asked the question. Draco noticed the slightest twitch in his eye before Harry gestured to the back door of the club.

“Come on, love; we're leaving,” Harry said to Draco.

Draco nearly laughed out loud at the look of eagerness on the young man's face.

As the three of them exited the club—Harry leading, pulling Draco along by his hand; the other man following in their wake—the man suddenly grabbed Draco's arm and attempted to pull him in for a kiss.

_SMASH!_

Draco smirked as the man's head rebounded off the brick wall. Harry had the Muggle pushed flat against the wall. To a passer-by, it might look as if Harry was getting ready to fuck him; Draco knew better.

“Are you okay, love?” Harry asked Draco with a gentleness that didn't quite match up with the ferocity showing in his face.

“Of course, Harry,” Draco replied. “He never actually got to kiss me.”

“What the _fuck_ do you think you are doing?” Harry spat at the man. “Did he say you could kiss him? Did _I_ say you could kiss him?”

“Okay, okay. I get it,” the man mumbled, breathing a sigh of relief. “No kissing.”

“No,” Harry said, releasing the man and drawing his wand, “I don't think you do.”

Draco pulled Harry back quickly. “Harry, he's a Muggle. You can't.”

“Draco, love, you _do_ love me, right?” Harry turned to face Draco yet kept his wand pointing at the confused looking Muggle.

Draco nodded quickly. “Of course I do.”

Harry swept his wand through the air. “ _STUPEFY!_ ”

The man immediately slumped to the ground, his wide unmoving eyes showing pure fear. Draco could hear the distant pops of Apparition. The Aurors must have been alerted to magic being used against Muggles. He knew he had to get Harry out of here quickly. Draco stepped into Harry's outstretched arms.

“Take me home, Harry. I'm ready for bed.”

“Of course, sweetheart. No one touches you but me.” Harry gently cupped Draco's face as he spoke. “You're mine.”

~

Two – The Acquaintance

> If you were interested, the Muggle was taken to St. Mungos where he received treatment and Memory Modification. The Healers couldn't get the man to tell them who had attacked him. He wouldn't—or couldn't—utter a word. They didn't even discover his name. The unnamed man did, however, draw his finger across the Healer's forehead.
> 
> One indiscretion is not so bad; it can be explained by a multitude of things. What about two? The next _incident_ occurred two weeks after the time in the club. His friends insisted that he was simply blowing off steam and that he hadn't realised his power. The newspapers reported it as an accident—two drunken friends simply getting into a scuffle. Maybe it was true. Tell that to Zacharias Smith. Well, you could try, anyway.

~

Draco loved being out with Harry and their friends. As he looked around the room, he took in the smiles and laughs around the table and couldn't help smiling to himself. Harry was happily sitting next to him, his arm draped casually over Draco's shoulder. Every couple of minutes, Harry would squeeze Draco gently and ask the same question.

“Having fun, babe?”

Draco nodded and gave his boyfriend a quick kiss before joining a conversation with Ron about the Cannon's chances in the cup. Draco was bemused when Harry had first started calling him ridiculous pet names, but he had soon come around to the idea when Harry had insisted it was only because he loved him so much. Who was Draco to turn down love that fierce?

“Another round?” Draco asked the group at large. He really was enjoying himself and he planned on making sure the night continued in the same vein.

Orders were shouted as Draco eased his way out of his seat and moved towards the bar, Harry following closely behind. ' _You can't carry them all on your own_ ,' Harry had insisted.

“Sit down, you two; I'll get these.”

The group was immediately silenced as the new arrival waved at them and pulled out his money pouch. Harry and Draco retook their seats.

“What's he doing here?” Harry asked.

“Leave it, Harry,” Hermione said. “We haven't seen him in a while; maybe he's changed.”

Draco felt Harry's hand tense on his shoulder. Draco gently squeezed Harry's knee in return, hoping to calm him down.

“Right. Who ordered the Gillywater?” Zacharias Smith asked as he levitated the drinks back to their table.

Hermione was right: he had changed. The group of friends had long ago stopped inviting Zacharias to their nights out. Firstly, he insisted on being addressed as Zacharias—never Zach. Secondly, the man was a twat. He was always so sullen, he never put his hand in his pocket when it was his round and he looked at Draco as if he was a pile of dragon shit. Draco noted the bulging drinks tray and the smile on his face—when he looked at everybody but Draco. Two out of three wasn't _too_ bad.

Many rounds later, including another two bought by Zacharias, found the group very tipsily retelling stories from their youth. Most of the stories centred around Harry, Ron and Hermione's antics at Hogwarts, and Luna in particular had had them in stitches with her tales of her trips to find weird—and probably made up—creatures.

Harry's hand had been creeping up Draco's leg and Draco wriggled in his seat to try and get Harry to touch his rock-hard cock through his jeans. Draco was gutted when Harry removed his hands completely in order to re-enact his fight with the Hungarian Horntail in the Triwizard Tournament.

“So, is Mr Champion going to get his round in?” Ron asked after Harry had finished his story.

Draco breathed a tiny sigh of relief as Harry simply let out a laugh and moved to stand up. The last thing Draco needed was Harry getting angry at his friends.

“Hang on; I've got a good one,” Zacharias said, causing Harry to sit back down. “Remember when Draco pretended to be a Dementor to try and get you to fall off your broom?”

The table fell silent. Zacharias obviously hadn't noticed through his giggles as he continued his story. “You fired off that Patronus and scared the shit out of him.”

Zacharias was laughing so hard he looked as if he might topple off his chair at any moment. He was holding his stomach as he guffawed. The rest of the table simply held their breath.

“I'll just get those drinks,” Harry said and the table, as one, breathed a sigh of relief. “Same again for everyone?”

Once Harry had bought his round and was settled back into his seat, the group started talking again. Most people avoided talk of the past now, and instead focused on their jobs and things happening in the present. Draco should have known that Zacharias hadn't changed. He was still a twat.

“Remember when you turned up for the first day of school with blood all over your face?” The twat addressed Harry. “What happened?”

Once again, silence reigned as the people seated at the table waited for Harry's reaction.

“Leave it, _Zach_.” Harry spoke with such power that Draco couldn't help but shiver.

Zacharias must have finally realised that he had spoken out of place, as he stood up, mumbled something and practically ran for the toilets.

“We have to get going,” Hermione said quickly. “Early start, you know. Are we all meeting sometime next week?”

Everybody voiced their agreement as they fumbled with bags and coats, shouting out goodbyes as they left the pub.

Harry stood up as well. Draco moved to put his coat on, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I won't be a minute, sweetheart,” he said, nodding towards the toilets.

“Harry, no.”

“Sweetheart, don't you love and trust me?” Harry asked and Draco nodded. “I'll be back in a minute; would you grab my jacket for me, please?”

Draco grabbed their coats and held them against his chest. He knew he shouldn't have allowed Harry to follow Zacharias, but Harry had said to trust him.

Not five minutes later, Harry returned, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Ready to go?”

Draco nodded and handed Harry his coat. He was more than ready to cuddle up in bed with Harry. “Where's Zacharias?” he asked.

“Oh, he had to leave. Don't worry, sweetheart; I don't think he'll be bringing up the past any time soon.” Harry kissed Draco gently and Draco felt his worries melt away. “The past can't change anything. It's forgotten now. He'll have to learn to live with it. You're mine.”

~

Three - The School friends

> In case you were wondering, Tom the innkeeper found Zacharias in the gents, slumped against the wall. He now spends his days keeping Gilderoy Lockheart company on the Janus Thickey Ward. The Healers don't know when—or if—his memory will return. No one questioned Harry over the incident. As I said earlier, it was an accident.
> 
> The next incident passed without many people commenting. It was mentioned in passing by a few, but largely ignored by the wizarding population. After all, their parents were already there; why shouldn't the next generation join them?

~

Harry was usually in the house all day. Having no need to work, he either joined Draco in the Potions Store he owned or waited at home for Draco's return. Draco loved coming home from the shop to find Harry in the kitchen, cooking Draco's favourite foods, or in the bathroom with a nice, hot bubble bath ready for him.

Harry had told Draco he was just popping out. When Draco asked where, Harry had simply winked and replied, “secret,” before kissing Draco and leaving. Draco hadn't been worried; Harry was a grown wizard who was quite capable of taking care of himself. So Draco was having an afternoon on his own with his old school friends.

Having not seen Pansy, Theo or any of the other Slytherins for a long time, Draco was very shocked to see them standing on his doorstep not five minutes after Harry had left. Draco had, of course, invited them in and served his old friends tea.

The small group spent a while politely enquiring after each other's health and life before Draco noticed a strange look pass between Pansy and Theo. The pair seemed to be having a battle with their eyebrows.

“What's going on?” Draco asked. “I haven't seen you in quite a while and you turn up out of the blue. You seem to have something you want to say. Just say whatever it is before one of your eyebrows falls off.”

“It's about Potter,” Theo finally said.

Draco's insides turned cold. “What about Harry? Is he in any danger?”

Greg scoffed and Pansy smacked him. “No,” Pansy said with the slightest hesitation. “We think you are.”

“We've been hearing some things,” Theo added. “About Potter.”

“What about Harry?” Draco's voice was rising. In worry or anger, he didn't know. “Tell me!”

“We just want to help,” Pansy said soothingly. “We want you to come home.”

“We don't want you to end up like Smith,” Theo said quickly.

Draco jumped up. “Harry would never hurt me. And that was an accident.”

“Please, Draco,” Pansy whispered. “Just come with us.”

“No, I'm staying here. In my own home, with my boyfriend. I assure you, I'm quite safe. Now, I'd like you to leave.”

Pansy had tears in her eyes, but Draco didn't care. How dare they imply such things about Harry?  
“Not without you, Draco.” The desperation was clear on Pansy's face as she spoke. Draco was shocked. Harry would never hurt him. He knew that for a fact.

“I think Draco asked you to leave.”

The ex-Slytherins turned towards the voice and Draco nearly sighed in relief. Draco didn't know how long Harry had been standing there, but he was glad for his presence; maybe his _friends_ would leave now.

“Is everything alright, dear?” Harry asked Draco, holding his hand out for him to take.

Pansy moved to hug Draco goodbye. “Please, Draco,” she pleaded again into his ear.

Draco moved away from his oldest friend and took Harry's outstretched hand. “Goodbye,” he told his friends. “You can see yourselves out.”

The door slammed shut and Draco felt any troubles leave him as Harry pushed him down onto the sofa and straddled him.

“Has my baby had a hard day?” Harry asked as he undressed Draco and kissed his way down his chest. “Can I make it better?”

Draco laughed and nodded before undoing Harry's trousers. “I'm sure you can.”

~

When the papers reported the following day that five 'children of Death Eaters' had been arrested and sent to Azkaban for threatening Harry Potter, Draco didn't know what to think. It was true, he supposed. Pansy and the others had tried to imply that Harry was dangerous, which in turn could have caused trouble for him. Harry didn't deserve that. Yes, they had been threatening, Draco decided. Draco smiled as the comfortable weight of Harry's chin rested on his shoulder.

“See, dear,” Harry drawled in between kissing Draco's neck, “no one can come between us. You're mine.”

~

Four – The Mother

> Those five people reside in Azkaban to this day. Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode were convicted of threatening the life of the Chosen One and each sentenced to fifteen years.
> 
> That should have been a warning for people not to come between Harry and Draco, but, of course, no one knew the truth about that fateful meeting. The next victim may have known that Draco's friends were planning on visiting him; she may even have instigated it. It didn't stop her from trying to talk to Draco herself—she was his mother, after all.

~

Harry and Draco had been visiting Narcissa once a fortnight ever since Lucius had died. She seemed to revel in their company and treated Harry as if he were her own. Sitting in the conservatory, sipping tea from dainty cups was not Draco's favourite thing to do, but he was her son; he had to do it.

“Draco, Harry, please, won't you stay for dinner?” Narcissa asked the same question every month. The answer was always the same.

“That would be lovely,” Harry said, smiling widely.

Okay, so it _wasn't_ always the same. Draco wondered why Harry had agreed; he'd always insisted that they couldn't, or that he didn't want to impose. Narcissa smiled brightly and instructed the house-elves to prepare extra places at the table.

“I'm so happy you stayed,” Narcissa said as they finished their main course. “I have something important I need to talk with you both about.”

Draco took a long gulp of his wine; he had the feeling he'd need the extra alcohol. After placing his wine glass back on the table, Draco took Harry's hand under the table and nodded to his mother to continue.

“I'm just going to come out and say it: I'm lonely,” Narcissa said. “This house is much too large for me to live in alone. I know that you didn't want to sell it, so I was wondering if you might move back in. Just for a little while, until I've properly grieved.”

Draco felt Harry grasp his hand tighter. Squeezing back gently, Draco smiled at his mother. “Harry and I will have to discuss it, Mother. We have Harry's house to think of as well; we can't leave it uninhabited.”

“Oh, Draco,” Narcissa smiled sweetly. “There's no need for poor Harry to move in as well.”

Draco quickly stood up and gestured for Harry to do the same. “Nevertheless, we will have to talk privately.” Draco moved to kiss his mother's hand and Harry did the same. “I will owl you tomorrow.”

~

Once they were back in their own house, Draco waited for Harry to explode. Instead, Harry sighed and put his arms around Draco's neck, kissing him softly.

“She's right, darling,” Harry said. “The Manor _is_ too large for her.”

Draco didn't know what to say. He couldn't believe that Harry was seriously considering his mother's request; he couldn't—wouldn't—let Draco just _leave_. Draco stayed silent.

“I think it's time to sell the Manor.”

Draco sighed in relief; Harry wasn't asking him to go! But his mother: what would happen to her? “What about Mother?”

“Oh, darling, don't worry! She can move in with Andromeda; she's been offering since your father died. We can arrange for her to have a new vault with some Galleons of her own. I really think she needs this, darling. I'll put the kettle on; you have a think about it.”

As Harry made the tea, Draco thought about Harry's proposal. It made sense; it would solve all of Mother's problems. She'd have companionship, independence and she wouldn't be rattling around the Manor on her own.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Harry asked as he placed the tea on the coffee table.

“I think it's a good idea, but what if she needs me?”

“She'll have her sister.” Harry held Draco's face in his hands as he spoke. “I have no one, darling. She needs to realise that you're mine.”

~

Five – The Reporter

> For those who need to know, Malfoy Manor was sold to a wizard from America two weeks after that conversation. Narcissa was moved into her sister's house and Draco continued to live with Harry. Everything was quiet for a while. There had been no _significant_ incidents and life moved on.
> 
> It was a little over a month later when the next incident happened. There were those who called for Harry's arrest, and there were those who claimed Harry was suffering mental problems. No one would admit to actually witnessing it, and some refused to speak of it at all. It didn't matter what anybody thought, or said. The simple fact was that there was no proof.

~

Draco awoke to the sound of Harry stomping and cursing downstairs. Draco could hear Harry ranting, and the smashing suggested that Harry had found fault with at least two of their lamps. Throwing on his dressing gown, Draco ran down the stairs to find out what had caused Harry's rage.

“—bitch. Who the fucking hell does she think—” Harry stopped ranting as Draco walked into the room. “Good morning, sweetie! How did you sleep?”

“What's the matter, Harry?”

Harry wordlessly held the paper out for Draco to take and Draco was unsurprised to see his own face sneering at him from the page. “Do I want to know?” Draco asked Harry.

“That bitch,” Harry spat, “thinks that you've been force feeding me love potions.”

Draco laughed. “That line again? I thought we'd seen the back of that one a long time ago. We'll just do what we did last time.”

“I am _not_ undergoing tests again,” Harry shuddered.

“No,” Draco said quickly, “not the first time—the last time. We'll give Luna an interview and just ignore the _Prophet_ entirely.”

Harry's face lit up. “Okay; sounds good. Breakfast?”

Draco snorted and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Harry might have said he wanted breakfast, but Draco knew he only wanted a cup of tea. His morning routine was the same every single morning. A cup of tea, then a second cup of tea, and finally some toast and a cup of coffee.

As he walked back to the living room with the steaming mugs of tea, Draco wondered if Harry had calmed down yet. He couldn't hear any more smashing, so he assumed that to be the case. Pushing open the living room door with his knee, Draco was shocked to see the room empty.

“Harry?” Draco shouted through the open door. “Are you okay?”

Harry flew down the stairs, fully dressed, and kissed Draco before taking his cuppa out of Draco's hand. Draco had to keep the laugh to himself as Harry picked the correct cup straight away; it made him smile that Harry would only drink out of white mugs.

“I've got to run out for a minute; something’s come up.” Harry gulped the scalding hot tea down before running out of the door.

“Harry?”

“Sorry, sweetheart!” Harry ran back in, hugged and kissed Draco before dashing back out of the door. “See you in an hour!”

Draco passed the hour by lounging in the bath with his latest book. He didn't open the shop on Saturdays and was at a loss for what to do in the absence of Harry; they usually spent Saturdays together in bed or out shopping. Draco was just in the process of drying off when he heard the front door slam and the cheery voice of Harry filter up the stairs.

“Darling, where are you?”

“In the bedroom,” Draco shouted back as he rummaged in the wardrobe for something to wear.

Draco didn't hear anything else from his boyfriend, so he continued to get dressed. He was startled when he felt the strong arms wrap around his waist. Harry could be sneaky when he wanted to be!

“Mmmm, you smell delicious,” Harry whispered into Draco's ear, “and you're all clean for me. Do you want to get _dirty_?”

Draco turned in Harry's arms to kiss him. “Why not,” he answered, “as long as you clean me again afterwards.”

Harry nodded and swiftly unbuckled Draco's belt. Draco was pleased he hadn't had a chance to put a jumper on yet as he undid Harry's shirt and their chests touched. The skin-on-skin contact made Draco moan and he leant in to kiss and lick at Harry's exposed throat. Draco loved the smell of Harry: vanilla soap, his favourite aftershave and— _blood_? What?

Draco stepped back and looked into Harry's eyes. “Harry?”

Harry grinned and led Draco to the bed. “Don't worry, darling. I'm sure she won't be spreading lies about us any more. I'll always protect you. You're mine.”

~

Six – The Ministry

> Rita Skeeter was found that same afternoon. Her hands had been cut off at the wrists; not one healer has been able to reattach them, or regrow them. Dark magic, the healers said. That theory has been further confirmed by the fact that Rita hasn't been able to tell them who attacked her. Rita hasn't stopped talking; she rants about her predicament most days, but she hasn't uttered the names Harry Potter (or titles thereof) or Draco Malfoy since that fateful day.
> 
> There was no doubt of Harry's guilt concerning the next _incident_. Witnesses numbered in the hundreds. But still, people refused to condemn him for the act. The excuses people came up with were laughable. They even praised him for standing up against the corrupt authority.

~

“What's that, love?” Harry asked.

Draco was sitting at the kitchen table, reading his mail with a grimace on his face.

“Mr Malfoy,” Draco read out loud. “It has come to out attention that you have supplied many named criminals with questionable potions through you store, _Malfoy's Potions_. Please attend a interview tomorrow morning at 11am to address these claims. Please note that failure to respond to this summons will hold you in contempt, and therefore you will be facing a sentence in Azkaban. Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Department, Order of the blah, blah, blah.”

Harry listened in silence; the only clue to his emotions were the cups and plates rattling on the table. Draco found he didn't want to curb Harry's anger as he usually tried to do.

“Those utter bastards,” Harry spat, echoing Draco's own sentiments.

Harry stood up from his chair until he was stood behind Draco. He wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and kissed him gently on his neck. “What are you going to do, sweetheart?”

Draco was used to Harry's mood swings, and he didn't flinch at the sudden change in tension. He also didn't know what to do. He knew he hadn't done anything wrong, so he knew he didn't have anything to hide by attending the meeting. On the other hand, why _should_ he have to face an interrogation. His shop was clean; he followed every code set out by the Ministry and had passed every inspection. The thought of losing his shop made his mind up.

“I'm going to go,” Draco said. “I have nothing to hide. They can try as hard as they want. I don't deserve to go to Azkaban and they know it. It's just scare tactics, that's all.”

“How about I take you out for dinner to take your mind off it?” Harry asked. “I'll even get a table at The Willow.”

Draco gasped and span around to face Harry. “How?” he asked in disbelief. “The waiting list is months long!”

Harry grinned. “What's the point in being Harry Potter if I can't use it to my advantage once in a while? Come on, baby. You deserve a treat.”

~

After a lovely dinner, and an even more _enjoyable_ night, Draco was surprised to wake up alone. Thinking that Harry was probably downstairs making breakfast, Draco washed and dressed and went to join him.

Instead of finding his boyfriend in the kitchen, Draco found a note propped up in front of the kettle.

_Darling, I'm sorry; I've had to pop out. I've made you breakfast, it's under a warming charm in the oven. I'll meet you outside the Ministry at 10.45. Don't go in without me. Love you, Harry x_

Draco sighed in relief and ate his breakfast happily. Harry had made all of his favourites; he really did know how to spoil him.

At 10.40, Draco Apparated to the normal entrance to the Ministry. Draco never liked the entrances from Muggle London. Flushing yourself down a toilet? No, thank you. His father had always told him to use the wizard entrance. It was the only guideline of his father's that he ever used these days.

Draco wandered around the square in front of the impressive white-bricked building, looking for Harry. Witches and wizards were milling about, but nobody paid him any attention.

“Draco!”

Draco turned at Harry's shout. Finally, he could go in and get this over with. “Ready?” he asked Harry.

“Wait a minute; I have something I need to do,” Harry said before he wrapped his arms around Draco and kissed him passionately.

“Mmm,” Draco sighed when they finally broke apart, “what was that for?”

“Three, two, one.”

_BOOM!!!_

Draco dropped to the floor at the sound of the huge explosion. Harry picked him up and Draco looked around. The Ministry building was missing its grand front doors; fire was engulfing everything Draco could see. Witches and wizards were scattering; people were fleeing the flaming building.

“Let's go home, sweetheart,” Harry said, taking Draco's hand in readiness for Apparation. “I don't think you have your appointment any longer.”

“Harry, what have you done?”

“Just protecting my baby,” Harry said soothingly. “No one tries to take you away from me. You're mine.”

~

Seven – The Ex

> The Ministry is still rebuilding to this day. No one mentions the two wizards and one witch who lost their lives in the destruction. A political protest, they say, will always have casualties.
> 
> As people excused Harry for the Ministry; they condemned him for his next indiscretion. It wasn't so much the fight—if you could call it that. It wasn't the severity of the violence. It was the _who_.

~

“Are you ready yet, sweetheart?” Harry called up the stairs. “The table is booked for 7.30.”

“Won't be a minute,” Draco called back.

Draco was standing in front of the floor-length mirror in the bedroom, wondering if the shirt he was wearing—his fourth of the night—was good enough. Harry would only tell him that he'd booked a table at their favourite restaurant and that it was important that Draco feel his best. Draco was intrigued, but as Harry's surprises usually led to romantic gestures, he wasn't worried. Deciding to go back to the green shirt, Draco changed quickly and joined Harry downstairs.

“Hmm, you'll do,” Harry said with a wink.

Draco gave Harry a look that clearly said that he was expecting more of a compliment.

“You look absolutely gorgeous.”

Draco's eyebrows rose. They played this game every time they had to dress up for something.

“I don't know whether I can keep my mind off you long enough to Apparate.”

Draco moved to sit on the sofa, pretending to yawn.

“Hmm, let's get going before I rip that fucking shirt off and have my wicked way with you right here on the sofa?”

Draco laughed. “That's better. Now, let's go.”

~

Dinner was fantastic. It always was at The Willow, but tonight seemed to be different. The waiters were more attentive, the wine was flowing more freely and a huge bunch of lilies had been delivered to their table halfway through their desert.

“Harry, what are these for?” Draco asked as he read the short note.

_Forever, Harry x_

“Draco, sweetheart,” Harry spoke quietly, but Draco could hear every word. He didn't realise it was because the restaurant had gone silent. “I love you. So much. Please, would you allow me the honour of being your husband?”

Harry finished his speech by dropping to his knees beside Draco's chair. There was a jewellery box open in his hand; an absolutely stunning pair of diamond cuff-links sitting atop a velvet pillow. Draco was in shock.

“Draco?” Harry asked with a small smile, looking around at the crowd of people watching them. “ _Will_ you marry me?”

“Of course, yes! YES!” Draco jumped out of his chair, pulled Harry up off the floor and kissed him soundly. “Fuck! I'm getting married!”

Harry just laughed and kissed him back.

~

After the excitement of dinner, Draco wanted nothing more than to take Harry—his fiancé—home and take him to bed. Harry, on the other hand, wanted to find their friends and tell them the good news. A promise of what Harry would do when they finally got home was enough to change Draco's mind.

It was a Friday, so Draco and Harry knew where their friends would be. Every Friday night for months now, all those who could make it met at The Owl for drinks and a catch-up. It wasn't that late by the time they arrived at the pub and as they opened the door, they knew they hadn't missed them.

The whole group looked to be quite tipsy. There was a lot of laughter and chatter and Draco smiled as they approached. He took Harry's hand as their friends noticed their arrival.

After the normal—albeit slightly slurred—greetings, Harry cleared his throat to make the announcement.

“Sssh!” Ron shouted out. “Harry's gonna say something.”

“I was going to make a big speech, but I think I'd rather come out and say it!” Harry smiled widely and slung his arm around Draco's shoulder. “We getting married!”

There was a moment of silence before almost the entire table cheered and stood up to congratulate the couple. One lone voice made them sit back down.

Ginny Weasley was sat in the corner, laughing. She wasn't chuckling in happiness for Harry and Draco, she was holding onto the table in her mirth.

“Ginny!” the shocked exclamation came from at least three occupants of the table.

“Oh, that's priceless!” Ginny stated, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes. “The great Harry Potter. Marrying a man. Oh Merlin.”

She laughed again and more than a couple of their friends glanced at Harry quickly to gauge his reaction.

“Harry, Draco,” Ron began, “sorry; she's had too much.”

Harry held his hand up to his oldest friend. “Let her say her piece,” Harry said. “She's not that drunk. It's obviously just been bottled in for far too long.”

“Show us your ring, Malfoy!” With that last statement, she burst into giggles again, pointing at Draco. “Seriously, Harry. You couldn't do better?”

“I think it's time we left,” Draco said firmly. His statement was echoed by Ron, Hermione and most of their friends.

Draco took Harry's hand, nodded at the people still congratulating them and nearly dragged Harry out of the pub.

“Draco, baby,” Harry said as they left. “Why don't you go on home; I forgot something.”

“Harry, no, please.” Draco held on tighter to Harry's hand. “Let's just go home.”

“Baby, you love me, right?” Harry pulled his hand from Draco's grip and cupped his face. “I love you. No one laughs at me; not any more, and they definitely don't laugh at you. I have to keep you safe. You're mine.”

~

Eight – The Best friends

> I don't know if any of you care, but it took Ginny Weasley two weeks of constant therapy to regain the use of her arms. It took a further two weeks for her to get her voice back. One thing was for certain: she wouldn't be laughing at Harry or Draco again.
> 
> Any 'normal' wizard would be in prison by now. But, as time has told, Harry Potter was _not_ a normal wizard. There was talk of Harry suffering from some sort of mental damage from the war. The more Muggle-minded witches and wizards even had a name for it: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. There were those who thought he'd just flipped. There were some who thought he was just evil. Everyone seemed to have an opinion. Some people even tried to help him. Harry didn't want any help.

~

Draco was lying on the sofa with his book when the Floo flared into life. A visibly stressed Ron came through, followed by a weary looking Hermione.

“Hi, Draco,” Hermione muttered. “Is Harry about?”

“No, sorry.” Draco moved his feet so Ron and Hermione could sit down. “He had to pop out. Do you two want a cup of tea?”

“Have you got anything stronger, mate?”

Draco recognised that there was something wrong when Hermione didn't admonish Ron for wanting alcohol at two in the afternoon. He gestured to the sideboard and Ron smiled gratefully before pouring himself a liberal splash of Firewhisky.

“When is Harry getting back?” Hermione said, sitting on the edge of her seat and playing with the hem of her jacket.

“What? Am I not good enough?” Draco was used to Ron dropping in every now and again for a Firewhisky and a catch-up on the Quidditch, or Hermione calling in to discuss her latest problem with work. He wasn't used to his friends being like they were: morose, quiet, _scared_.

When his little attempt at a joke fell flat, Draco straightened in his seat. “Tell me,” he said.

“We think—we know—that Harry needs help,” Hermione began in an uncharacteristic sombre tone. “We should've acted a long time ago. The _thing_ with Ginny has forced us to do something.”

Draco sat silent. He didn't know what to say. He didn't quite understand what Hermione was saying. These were their best friends. They ate dinner together; they trusted each other. Harry hadn't done what he did to Ginny because of viciousness; he wasn't by any stretch of the imagination a violent man. He was Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake! He was the paragon of good!

“I know this is hard, Draco,” Hermione continued when Draco didn't speak up. “Please, it's hard for us as well.”

There were tears in her eyes as she spoke and Draco was shocked to feel the wetness travelling down his own cheeks.

“We should have seen this coming; we could have helped Harry before it got this far.”

Draco shook his head. “What are you talking about?” he asked quietly.

“We think that Harry has some problems left over from the war,” Ron added, as Hermione seemed incapable of continuing. “We think it's best if he got some professional help.”

“What kind of help?” Draco voice was rising, but he didn't care. “He doesn't need any help!”

“We think it best if Harry went to this facility,” Hermione muttered as she handed Draco a pamphlet from her pocket. “He has to do it; there's already talk of him being arrested!”

“Draco, you _must_ have realised something. With Zacharias, Rita and Ginny.” Ron choked on his sister's name. “Please, just look at it.”

Hermione burst into sobs again as Draco looked at the leaflet in his hand. “But, but, this is for him to go away!” he shouted in outrage. “It says it's an inpatient facility!”

Ron nodded sadly. “It's the only way.”

“What's the only way? And what's up with you two?”

Draco turned to face Harry as he stepped through the door. Harry must have noticed Draco's tear lined face, as he rushed forward to envelop Draco in a hug.

“Sweetheart, baby, what's the matter?” As he spoke, Harry plucked the pamphlet out of Draco's hand. “Darling, what's this?”

“We brought it, Harry,” Ron uttered in a voice stronger than Draco thought possible. “It's to help you.”

Harry turned to face his oldest friends. “I think I need to talk to Draco. Would you mind seeing yourselves out?”

Draco was surprised at the cold tone of Harry's voice. Ron and Hermione stood up and entered the Floo quickly. “Think about it, please?”

Harry nodded and the two disappeared in a flash of green flame. Harry and Draco held each other for what felt like hours. Neither spoke; they simply comforted one another.

“Do you want me to go away, sweetheart?” Harry eventually asked. “Do you want me to go away?”

“No!” Draco shouted. “I want you to stay here with me.”

“Okay, baby, I'll never leave you. I will always be with you.” Harry laughed grimly. “But, I do have to pop out. I won't be long.”

Realisation dawned on Draco as Harry stood up. “Harry, no, please. Please!”

“Sweetheart,” Harry said as he kissed Draco goodbye, “I have to. No one comes between us. _No one_ tries to take me away from you. You're mine.”

~

Nine – The World

> Not one person wanted to believe it to be true. Ron and Hermione were Harry Potter's best friends. They'd been close since they were children. When Molly Weasley fire-called the Aurors in tears, telling them that she had just found her youngest son and his girlfriend dead on her kitchen floor, at first the Aurors suspected Death Eaters and the like. They were aghast when Molly continued on to tell them that the last person to have visited her home was Harry Potter.
> 
> That was that. It was murder. Harry Potter or not, justice would have to be done. Yes, Harry Potter defeated Voldemort; he was accorded certain _privileges._ But, as Harry Potter had told everyone frequently, Ron and Hermione had as much to do with the downfall of Voldemort as anybody. What Harry Potter did on that fateful night was inexcusable. Something had to be done.

~

After Ron and Hermione's ill-fated visit, Draco had known that the day he had been dreading would eventually come. He had planned meticulously for that very moment. He had written everything down, arranged all the paperwork and gathered his supplies. Being who he was, Draco had easily procured what he needed. All he had left to sort out was the _when_.

He was awoken early by the ringing of the alarms he had set. They were to go off if more than four people congregated outside of their front door. They were here. It was time.

Draco left Harry asleep in bed as he crept downstairs. He wasn't shocked at Harry ignoring the ringing; Harry hadn't heard the alarm clock in years. Draco could hear the Aurors outside the door; barking orders at each other. He had time; he was sure of it. Harry was serious about their safety in their own home. It would take the Aurors a very long time to get into the house.

Ignoring the chatter outside, Draco walked around the downstairs rooms, looking into each in turn. He took in the pictures on the mantlepiece. Harry and Draco were in every one, mostly pictures of them smiling and waving at the camera. There were pictures that their friends had taken, surreptitiously, of Harry and Draco kissing or cuddling. Draco smiled at the love that was plain to see in each photograph.

Draco walked into the dining room and chuckled as he remembered that it wasn't just dinner they'd had at—on—that table. He walked into the study and imagined Harry sat at the large desk, trying his best—tongue poking through his teeth as he concentrated—to work out their accounts before giving up and getting Draco to finish it. Finally, he walked into the kitchen. Draco smiled sadly as he remembered how much time they'd spent in there: eating, talking, laughing, crying, ranting, kissing. Shaking himself, Draco mentally listed what he had to do. Firstly, he needed a cuppa.

Standing at the kitchen window, Draco sipped his tea and surveyed the band of Aurors crowded in his garden. Draco was grateful that they couldn't see him; he and Harry had learned early on in their relationship that privacy glass was essential. He deliberately ignored the Aurors as he looked out at the sunrise breaking over the trees. It was beautiful. The rising sun illuminated the flowers he and Harry had lovingly tended; the birdsong gave him hope that he was doing the right thing. Having taken his fill of the view, and finished his cuppa, Draco carefully washed and dried his cup and went to work.

Draco put the kettle back on to boil, and placed his carefully prepared paperwork in the middle of the table. He only hoped that when the Aurors finally broke through Harry's spellwork, they wouldn't immediately start firing. Oh well, there were more copies with the solicitor.

Startled by the sudden squeal of the kettle, Draco took Harry's favourite mug out of the cupboard—a plain, cheap white mug that Draco refused to drink out of—and poured Harry's tea. After pouring his own cup, Draco placed both on the tray, reached into the back of the cupboard for the phial he'd been hiding and, after one last sweeping look at his favourite room of the house, made his way back upstairs.

As he walked, Draco thought over the last year. He wondered if he could have done something for Harry sooner, but quickly realised that he couldn't have. Harry was Harry; he was only doing what he needed to do to ensure that no one came between them. Draco couldn't fault him for that; Harry simply wanted them to be together forever. Which is why Draco had decided to do this. For Harry; for himself.

Draco pushed open the bedroom door and was surprised to see Harry sleepily opening his eyes.

“Morning, Draco,” Harry said through a yawn. “You're up early.”

“Good morning, love.” Draco placed the tray on the bedside table. “I've brought you some tea.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, taking the proffered mug from Draco's hand. “Where's my good morning kiss?”

Draco smiled and kissed Harry gently. “I love you, darling,” he whispered against Harry's lips. “I love you so much.”

“What's all this about?” Harry asked cheekily, kissing Draco again.

“I can't tell my fiancé that I love him?” Draco pouted.

“I love you, too,” Harry said, laughing and taking a gulp of his tea. Frowning, Harry looked down into his mug. “Draco, what's this?”

Draco put his finger on Harry's lip. “I do love you, Harry. I can't imagine my life without you. I _know_ that you don't want to live without me either. Drink your tea, darling. It's the only way.” Draco took a long drink of his own tea.

“There are Aurors outside who have come to take you away from me. They'll break through the spells eventually. I can't live without you.” Draco stopped talking and gestured for Harry to drink his tea; Harry did so.

“I love you, Draco.”

“I love you, Harry.” Draco placed their cups back onto the tray and cuddled into Harry's side.

Draco could hear Harry's breath slowing, and he could feel his own chest tightening up. It was nearly time. He kissed Harry one last time and made sure that Harry's arms were tightly wrapped around him.

“I _won't_ live without you, Harry. You're mine.”

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: Dark!Harry, murder, violence, major character deaths, suicide.


End file.
